


Requiem

by orangesiclebirb



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent Jack Drake, Child Death, Child Murder, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Tim Drake, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23555044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesiclebirb/pseuds/orangesiclebirb
Summary: re·qui·em (n.)a solemn chant (such as a dirge) for the repose of the dead; a musical composition in honor of the dead.Sometimes, you don't remember the worst day of your life for years to come. When you remember, you might want to go back to not knowing.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 267





	1. Dick Grayson

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! It's been over two years since I wrote a fic, but here I am!! Big thanks to the folks in the LS Discord server who encouraged me, I never would've got this written without you! <3
> 
> As always, this is unbetaed, so if you notice a mistake don't feel bad pointing it out!

It was supposed to be just another day. A normal day—or at least, normal for them. And it had been normal, at first.

(It was supposed to be a normal day, not a _nightmare that was breaking his heart_ ).

———

Dick had driven in from Blüdhaven last night, and was looking forward to spending time with his family. They weren’t all at the Manor yet, but they would be soon.

When he got downstairs, however, Jason had already arrived, and was making...something in the kitchen.

(Dick did not know, because he was banned from the kitchen after he set the toaster oven on fire several months ago. He assumed it would be edible, because it was Jason making it. He stayed long enough to greet Jay, get himself cereal, and vacated without doing anything else.)

Soon enough, Titus entered the room, followed by Damian. Damian disappeared into the kitchen momentarily, and returned with what appeared to be a mug of tea.

“Good morning, Dami,” Dick grinned.

“...Good morning, Richard,” came the response, and then silence. Titus left the room, but Damian remained, and the two brothers sat in comfortable silence.

———

Not long afterwards, Tim descended from upstairs, rubbing his eyes and looking tired, even though Dick knew for a fact that he had actually slept some last night.

(Probably not much, but a few hours at least. Unfortunately, Dick was also well acquainted with the truth that _sleep_ doesn’t necessarily guarantee _rest_.)

Tim breezed through the dining area into the kitchen, presumably to make coffee. Sure enough, when Dick took his bowl to rinse, Tim was leaning against the counter in front of the coffee pot, watching it work its magic.

“You awake there, Timmy?” Dick teased, moving to the sink.

“Mmmm… no,” Tim responded, “not until coffee.” then, in a very daring move, Tim scooted along the counter until he could extend a hand towards the food Jason had passed onto the plate next to the stove, which Dick could now identify as staple breakfast food, including eggs that appeared to be from the already cooled and set aside pan, whereas another pan was currently holding bacon, which would soon join the several bacon strips on the plate.

One of which Tim was attempting to snatch.

(Dick knew this was about to go very badly. Given his childhood, it was no surprise that Jason reacted immediately with violence to someone trying to take his food. Even if he didn’t follow through, he would always begin to go in for a hit with either his fists or whatever happened to be closest.

So Dick knew it was going to go badly, but he didn’t know just how badly. It was such a specific scenario, how could anyone have known?)

———

The next things seemed to happen almost in slow motion: Tim’s hand approached Jason’s food, Jason’s hand grabbed a hold of the handle for the pan that once held the eggs, and pulled it back like he was going to slam it down.

Jason froze, and put the pan down.

Tim didn’t move.

“Jesus, kid, if you want a piece just fucking _ask_ , don’t go takin’ my food!” Jason exclaimed, exasperated.

Tim didn’t move.

Dick moved towards Tim. “Timmy? You okay?”

Dick and Jason both watched as Tim pushed away from the counter and walked out of the kitchen. Which, okay fine, except that… he left without getting coffee.

(Something was _very wrong_ , and Dick’s stomach performed a sickening twist.)

Jason, still looking where Tim had been, huffed. “What’s up with him?”

Dick frowned. “I’m not sure… maybe I should go after him.”

“Nah,” Jason replied, turning back to his pan. “He’s probably just too tired to function. Leave him to go pass out again and whoever finds him can put him back in his bed for a few more hours.”

(Dick let himself be convinced, but something was still nagging at the back of his head.)

———

Several hours later, well into the afternoon, Dick had yet to see Tim again. After asking around, it turns out _nobody_ in the family had seen Tim since that morning. Feeling uneasy, Dick wanders around checking hidey holes and places Tim might’ve gone and fallen asleep on accident.

He doesn’t find him.

(Hours have passed, and Dick contacts the Titans—maybe Tim went to see his friends and forgot to mention it? But they haven’t seen Tim since he was at the Tower about a week and a half ago, and that means that _absolutely nobody knows where Tim is_.)

He pulls out the stops, and checks the security cameras, and goes to get Bruce, because something is _wrong_.

(The cameras caught Tim _hours_ ago crossing the wall on the North edge of the property… the side which borders the land that belongs to the Drakes, who consist of only Tim now, where Tim’s old house sits, cold, empty, abandoned. He knows for a fact that Tim hates that house, hates how empty it is, how empty it was his whole childhood.)

Bruce brings in the rest of the family, pointing out that the grounds of Drake Manor are huge—it would take hours for just the two of them to search for Tim. Instead, they divide and conquer.

They each take a communicator, just in case, and they set out to find Tim. Bruce takes the house, and the rest of them take sectors of the grounds. Dick takes to his sector as soon as everyone confirms they know where they’re going, perturbed almost to the point of being frantic.

(A little ways into the woods, he finds the start of a trail. It’s not well travelled, but it’s obviously a trail. Why would anyone start a trail in the middle of the woods?)

———

For what seems like forever, but is likely only twenty minutes in reality, Dick follows the trail. It comes to a sudden stop in front of a dense brush, which seemed taller than usual. Dick knows most people would turn around at this point, and look elsewhere, but that tiny voice in the back of his head that he’s dubbed his Brotherly Intuition™ urges him to keep going, so he pushed on, through the shrubs and brambles and young trees which block his path and obscure his view.

(He is not expected to come across a scene that will, without a doubt, haunt him for the rest of his life.)

When he gets through the brush, he finds Tim kneeling in a hole on the ground, covered in dirt. Dick approaches him slowly, but loudly, so that he doesn’t startle him.

(As Dick gets closer, he realizes that Tim’s not just kneeling in a hole, he’s _digging it_ , and that he’s using his _hands_ , but the hole is remarkably deep for Tim digging it with only his hands…)

“Timmy?” Tim pauses, but doesn’t stop digging, tossing dirt to the side as he uncovers it to make the hole deeper. “Tim, what are you doing? Are you alright?” Tim stops, and his head turns towards Dick.

(His eyes are unfocused, like he’s not seeing him at all, but there are tear tracks on his dirt-smudged cheeks. Alarms start blaring in the back of Dick’s head.)

“I’m digging,” comes slowly, detached, almost _floaty_ , like when he’s on the verge of falling asleep. Dick continues his approach until he’s right next to Tim.

“Why are you digging?”

“I have to find it.” Something about the way Tim says it makes Dick’s stomach twist so hard it hurts.

“What are you trying to find?” Tim blinked, though his eyes didn’t seem much more focused than before.

(Dick almost doesn’t want to hear the answer.)

“Theodore’s body.”


	2. Tim Drake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could he forget?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're officially in Tim's POV now, though there is a little bit of Bruce at the end. I will probably not continue to post chapters so close together, but I was on a roll today and managed to get a lot of classwork done as well as this, so I figured I would put it up! :D Enjoy!

Tim hadn’t remembered.

(Oh god, how could he forget? _How could he forget?_ )

Tim didn’t _want_ to have remembered.

(Why did he have to? Why now, when there’s nothing he can do? No justice he can seek? No vengeance he can inflict?)

No, he can’t right the wrong, but he can give peace.

(He vaguely recalls something about ancient beliefs regarding improper burial rendering spirits unable to move on. He’s never been superstitious or religious, but…)

He goes looking for a body.

———

Time blurs around him, he floats, disconnected and only vaguely aware of himself.

(His hands are dirty. He hates to be dirty, but it’ll be worth it.)

He’d absently retraced an old, forgotten path, somehow knowing exactly where to go, not noticing as the light shifts.

(And he’s digging, digging, _digging_...)

His hands are raw.

(They don’t hurt. He doesn’t stop.)

He keeps going.

———

( _“Let’s play a game!”_

_“What game?”_

_“Um… Hide and Seek?”_

_“Hide and Seek Tag.”_

_“Sure!”_ )

———

“Tim wh… doing? Are you alright?” The voice drifts into his space. Tim turns. Someone is standing there.

( _“You can go this time, Tim,”_ a young boy’s voice echoes, _“You’re the one that wanted to the most!”_ )

“I’m digging.”

They want to know why he’s digging.

( _”You can tell me anything, little brother,”_ and _”C’mon, Timmy, you know you can tell me anything!”_ whisper in his ears, ringing, overlapping, intertwining.)

“Why are you digging?” is sharper, clearer than the other questions. Why can’t they tell why he’s digging? They made it here, they have to know what’s here.

“I have to find it.”

(He has to find it, the chest, he can picture it. Wooden, polished, it used to hold something else— _”I’m gonna name this one Blue!”_ winds around him, accompanied by the faint memory of something soft and stuffed.)

“What are you trying to find?”

Did they really not know?

“Theodore’s body.”

(The air shifted, somehow, growing cold. Tim thought he could hear terrified screams from somewhere far away.)

He went back to digging, until suddenly he wasn’t anymore. He felt—pressure?

(Slowly, the world started to make a little more sense.)

Someone was holding him, wrapped around him from behind, a strong arm holding him still. A voice talking, but not to him, to someone—someone not here?

Time blurred, and Tim—Tim _drifted_.

———

The world focuses, just a bit.

Tim is not digging anymore.

(No, _no_ , he _needs_ to be digging, he has to—)

Something is pushed into his hands. He stares for several minutes before he realizes it’s a shovel.

He goes back to digging.

(He’s not the only one digging, this time, there’s someone else too. Someone he recalls as—blunt, recalcitrant, protective, _safe_ ).

A loud _thunk_ sounds.

(There’s a sound he can hear—it’s one he’s been waiting for.)

———

Tim wakes, still fuzzy, in his own bed. He opens his eyes to find himself in his own room, and knows almost immediately that he’s not alone.

He blinks at Cassandra, who looks back at him. She forms her hands into pointing L-shapes, index finger out and thumb up, and brings one up to touch her forehead before bring it back down to rest on top of the other. _Brother_ , she signs at him, not breaking the silence. _Sleep, you-go._ After a moment, she opens her mouth and whispers, “Safe now.”

He closes his eyes and drifts off.

———

The next time Tim comes around, the room is no longer dark, and Cassandra is no longer the one accompanying him. This time, it’s Dick, and he looks like hell.

“Hey there, Tim,” Dick smiles, but it’s strained, and Tim is confused.

“Hi, Dick..?” he responds.

Dick moves from the chair pulled up by the bed and sits directly on the bed as Tim sits up to properly face him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Tim stares incredulously. “Uh, I went to bed? I was tired.”

Dick nods. “Okay, can you tell me what day it is?”

Tim squints at him. Did he somehow sleep for over 24 hours? “It’s Saturday..?”

Dick swallows, “ _Yesterday_ was Saturday, Timmy.” Tim blinks several times.

“Did I really sleep the whole day?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No…”

“We found you over in the woods behind your old house yesterday, but you were pretty out of it, so I’m not surprised. We—Tim, we’re going to have to ask you some questions.” Tim didn’t understand. It was just Friday night, but if it was Sunday morning then why didn’t he remember anything from Saturday? 

“Timmy, little brother… who is Theodore?”

Tim’s blood ran cold.

———

_“I’m gonna get you!”_

_Timmy giggled, running through the grass, making several random turns to avoid getting tagged, when suddenly, he tripped._

_“Timmy!” Came the yell, as small feet caught up to him. “Are you okay?”_

_Timmy blinked, and pushed up off the ground, wiping off his hands before seeing that his knee was scraped. He looked up to wide ice blue eyes, and smiled reassuringly._

_“I’m okay, Teddy, but I think I need a band-aid,” He said, lifting his knee._

_“I’ll go get one!” Teddy answered, dashing off. Timmy just blinked for a moment before hurrying after him._

———

_There was blood spattered on the kitchen floor, and Mama was holding him to her chest, trying to shield his eyes._

_(“It’s too late, Mama,” he wanted to say, “I already saw.”)_

_It had been loud, just moments before, but now the silence was deafening._

_(There were tears running down his face. Why was Dad so angry?)_

———

“—im, I need you to breathe—”

His vision was dark around the edges, his scalp hurt, was he pulling his hair?

(His hands were fisted around dark strands, darker hands holding him by his wrists to stop him from pulling more).

“In for four, hold for four, out for four, do it with me, okay?” he managed to make out.

“I—” he wheezed, panicked, “I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can’t—Teddy no, please, I’m sorry…”

The world faded around him.

———

The computer lets out a sound that indicates the test is done.

Bruce turns his attention to the screen, not daring to hope that it’s pulled up results, since he knows it is unlikely the child whose body they had found had been in their system.

(When he sees the results, he wishes there hadn’t been any.)

He closes the results, and reopens them, but they remain the same.

This child’s DNA is a complete match to Timothy Jackson Drake’s.


	3. Janet Drake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I originally paused writing for finals week as my semester ended, and then I took a long time with the chapter because it is very heavy emotionally, and it definitely was difficult for me to write mentally.
> 
> With that said, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS for this chapter. Child murder at the hands of a parent is described in snippets interspersed within other scenes. The text for those snippets are italicized. 
> 
> Outside of those scenes, there's mentions of a parent being violent (without specific examples), child neglect, and canon character deaths. Please practice self-care while reading. Stay safe, readers <3

Janet Drake was a cold woman. It was something you’d hear from practically everyone in Gotham high society, though never in her presence.

Janet Drake, the Ice Queen. A frigid bitch down to the core. She had no problem with this reputation.

(Privately, she viewed herself as more of a stronghold than a monarch. An Ice Stronghold, to protect herself and, more importantly, her son.)

She had made a mistake, before, being vulnerable. And so she endeavored to make sure everyone forgot she had ever been anything other than cold.

———

_The sound of glass shattering._

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to!”_

_Eyes burning like fire._

———

She will admit that she had not cared for Jack Drake initially, that she viewed him as an escape from her family.

(What a pity, that he was more of a nightmare than they ever were.)

Over time, she had grown endeared to him, but she was more endeared to what he gave her—her sons.

Her precious, precious boys. She picked a name for one—Timothy, from the only relative who had ever been kind to her—and Jack picked the other’s.

(“Theodore,” he had said. “It means ‘gift from God’, you know, since Timothy means ‘to honor God’.”

Janet wasn’t deeply religious, but she thought her boys were gifts from God, indeed.)

———

_Jack had his hand wrapped solidly around the handle of their best frying pan. It was heavy, but it was nonstick and easy to clean. It had always been her favorite._

_She was dizzy, she couldn’t stop him—she went to the next best thing._

———

Overtime, Jack grew angry. He was always impulsive, she knew, but it seemed to wax and wane in such a way that she didn’t concern herself with it.

(And anyway, as long as her boys were alright, that was what mattered most.)

Jack didn’t like the hassle of the children, and even though he agreed to keeping them both he refused to handle more than one at a time. Thus, any event they attended, they brought one brother, and the other was left in the very capable hands of the housekeeper.

(Janet didn’t understand how he saw the boys as a hassle, but she could understand that sometimes things took longer to do with children around. She tolerated the situation, and made sure to keep track of which boy preferred certain types of events, so that neither were subjected to any they hated more than most.)

———

_Tears rolling down her face, and she could feel Timothy’s after she covered his eyes._

_  
_ _Whispered “Don’t look, I love you, don’t look—” as she choked on her breath._

———

(Timothy was very excited to go to the circus when the famous acrobats came to Gotham. Janet was internally thrilled at his excitement; as the quieter twin, Timothy rarely expressed such open, loud enthusiasm for anything.

Later, she came to regret it. Her child had been happy, but the cost was nightmares upon nightmares. Nobody deserved to experience death so young.)

———

_Theodore was screaming._

_  
_ _  
_ _Her baby, her little boy, her son—_

_Why couldn’t she help him?_

———

She blamed herself, was the thing. She knew Jack had… _issues_ with his anger, but she had never thought of him as _violent_.

———

_Jack hit him until the screaming stopped._

_There was so much blood on the floor._

———

Outwardly, Janet knew most saw her as the smarter of the two. While it was true, it didn’t mean Jack was stupid or incompetent. In fact, he was far smarter than people gave him credit for.

(Underestimation is the best card to have in your deck.)

Unfortunately, this worked against her when she needed help the most.

(She knew he’d get away with it, if she tried to expose him.)  
  
Timothy was more important than anything else.

(Nothing would bring her Teddy back.)

———

_Her son was— her husband had—_

———

She took her husband with her and put as much distance between him and her son as she could manage.

(She kept Timothy _safe_ and that was what mattered most. Maybe she hurt him, but he was alive and that was more important.)

She never regretted it.

———

_Grief is a cold thing to carry in secret._

———

(On her deathbed in Haiti, she wishes she had spent more time with her last son, but knew she couldn’t change the past, and more importantly that she would’ve never traded his life for it.)

(She dies hoping her husband follows suit.)


	4. Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying out what they know, and what they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for discussion of child murder, contemplation on the events therefore, and discussion of parents as perpetrators against their own child. Brief mention of a panic attack, talk of repression of traumatic childhood memories.
> 
> Take breaks if you need them, and stay safe <3

There are a lot of things Dick cares about in this world. Everyone knows that.

Everyone also knows that above all, Dick cares about his family.

So the fact that his younger brother had gone and dug up a body in his old backyard, didn’t remember any of it, and then had the worst panic attack Dick has ever witnessed after hearing a single name?   
  
Safe to say, Dick was not having a great time.

(The understatement of a century. Dick was having  _ the worst _ time. He could barely stand to look at Tim, feeling more and more nauseous the longer he had to sit and contemplate what the hell was going on.)

———

After flagging down Jason to watch over Tim, Dick heads down to the Cave.

(He’s going stir-crazy, not knowing how to help.)

When he gets there, Bruce is sitting at the computer, face set in a grim expression.

Dick consciously makes noise as he approaches, footsteps loud against the cold stone floor. Bruce turns to look at him.

“I thought you were with Tim,” he says. Dick shifts his weight from side to side.

“I was,” he replies, “but Jason’s with him now. He—” he pauses. “He had a panic attack, and he passed out.” Bruce’s expression goes more stone than before, something Dick didn’t think was possible.

(The situation is bad, yes, but Bruce usually has a blank face in every sense—the expression concerns Dick.)

“Did you find anything?” Dick asks, coming closer. Bruce turns back to the computer and exhales sharply through his nose.

“...I did.” comes after a moment of silence. Dick waits, feeling that he doesn’t need to ask.

(The seeming reluctance to talk makes his stomach twist in unease. What could possibly be worse than the fact that the body exists at all?)

Bruce pulls his hands away from the keyboard, curling them into fists. “The computer found a DNA match,” he says, sounding nearly  _ pained _ .

(Dick has a bad, bad feeling…)

Swallowing down his apprehension, Dick asks, “Who is it?” Bruce lifts his gaze to his eldest son.

“It came back as a perfect match for Tim’s own.”

(As bile rises in his throat, Dick knows that he is absolutely, undoubtedly, going to have nightmares about this for years.)

———

What Bruce describes next is a multitude of hidden documents, careful bribery, and the work of heavy underestimation, which combined allowed for a tragedy to come about with the entire world none the wiser.

(“I only was able to find these because I was specifically looking for them. It seems,” Bruce says, sounding as guilty as Dick feels sick, “that we had all underestimated Jack and Janet Drake to an extreme extent.”

And the thought that without this one incident, nobody would’ve ever known—that a child’s body would be undiscovered for possibly centuries—chills Dick all the way down to his very core.)

The facts are this: 

  1. Timothy Jackson Drake is the younger of a set of twins.
  2. At some point, Theodore Drake died—possibly accidentally, but highly unlikely.
  3. Either one or both of the elder Drakes had gone to extreme extents to cover up the fact that they had ever had more than one child.



And worst of all,

  1. Tim either had known these things his whole life, and never said anything, or he didn’t know.



(The thought that Tim knew overcame Dick with such grief, he felt like he was drowning, but Bruce must’ve noticed, because he made sure to emphasize that given that Tim did not remember any of the previous days events, and the way he was acting, it was likely that he had repressed the memory of his brother entirely due to it’s traumatic nature.

It was still heartbreaking, but it was better than the alternative.)

What they still didn’t know was when Theodore Drake died, how he died and who had killed him—if this was, as suspected, a homicide—and, of course, why it had been possible for the Drakes to bury his entire existence so well for what was at least a decade.

(Bruce brought up searching the Drake estate, and affirmed the easy assumption that Tim would not be included in such a search, which led them to the fact that someone would have to talk to Tim.

As of yet, they were unsure how well Tim would handle questioning, and if he would be able to remember anything useful either way.)

———

Damian had absolutely no idea what to make of the situation at hand, so he does something Drake does best: he breaks it down to the basics and works through it step by step.

Point one: yesterday morning, an incident in the kitchen occurred which involved Drake, Todd, and—to some extent—Richard. Drake reacted in an odd way, but nobody was alarmed for several more hours.

(It took several hours for anyone to notice—what did that say about their observational skills as a family unit?)

Point two: Drake had returned to the old Drake estate, not seeming to be fully aware of himself nor his actions.

Point three: When Richard found him, Drake was attempting to dig up a section of earth with his bare hands. Drake reveals that he is digging for a corpse, going so far as to provide a name.

Point four: They found a wooden box, reminiscent of an antique toy box, buried, and within that a child’s body.

(It took many years for anyone to notice— _ what did that say about them? _ )

Point five: he has just overheard Father relay to Richard that the child— _ Theodore _ —was genetically identical to Drake.

Damian has seen many things in his life, and violence is not excluded from those things. Even still—some things are a higher caliber of atrocity than others.

(The implication is one that chills him to the bone. Even though he can admit things were… not ideal, with Mother, he can never imagine a scenario where she did not do her best to protect him from harm. He knows she would go to great lengths for him, though he would never rely on it nor acknowledge it.)

Given the extent Father describes to which the elder Drake’s went to cover this up, Damian finds it unlikely that anyone other than the Drake’s themselves were responsible, though he admits it could have been an accident… given what he knows of Drake’s childhood, the death might have been a result of negligence, more than outright murder.

(He is not optimistic enough to hope for that to be the case, though he does not want to think about mothers who do not protect their sons.)

He retreats up into the Manor proper before Father or Richard notice he is there.

———

Tim dreams in turns of companionship and loneliness.

( _ “Timmy!” _ versus cold, empty hallways.)

Periwinkles and red coneflowers.

(Eyes warm with laughter versus blood splattered on kitchen tile.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stretch, hydrate, etc, practice self care!! <3
> 
> I'm not sure how long the fifth chapter will take, I'm preparing to go back to school for the fall semester and, as such, am kinda busy. I'll get it out when I can! Thank y'all for your patience with my relatively slow updates, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is in Dick's POV, but after this it will switch to Tim's! We might see some of Dick's POV again, but for the most part I'm going to try to stay in Tim's POV.


End file.
